


1MMORTALS

by RedInkBOBOMB



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gay Sex, M/M, Magical Realism, Post-it Notes, Secret Orders, Slash, Supernatural Elements, gay relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 13:00:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6754984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedInkBOBOMB/pseuds/RedInkBOBOMB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emmett McCarty has gotten through life the best way he knows how- cocky witt and his best friend(and love of his life), Jasper Hale. But all that changes with a girl, a divine mission, and a choice...and a bronze head of hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reviving my very first fanfic. Hopefully it'll be amazing.
> 
> Reviews are welcome and, as always, ENJOY!
> 
> Thanks for reading;)

This is how it ends. I can feel my life slowly fading from me. And for the first time ever, I genuinely regretted the way I lived my life. I did absolutely nothing of great importance. My greatest accomplishment may have been that piece of bagel I ate half of this morning. All the great things older people tell you you'll do? Ha. Zilch. Nothing. I couldn't even save my best friend. And now my body is strewn across the couch, bleeding out onto everything, onto my white wife beater, onto my homework, and I wish the whole thing would've happened another way. But it didn't, and I'm left to drain out. Guess it's a good way to go. My couch is still as musty as it's ever been. Mr. Li will wash out the stain and sell it to another tenant. My apartment will be stripped clean and all of my things will be sent up to my parents in Wisconsin.

Speaking of my parents-the very people who raised me to be the strange type of guy that I am-I wondered if they would even care. My mother, the world renowned Dr. Phyllis McCarty, had no time for me. Especially since she remarried and got another family of her own going. I'm barely mentioned in the articles brimming with the stories of her many accomplishments and the tales of her family's troubles and whatnot. Her husband, my stepfather, is a quiet spineless man who does nothing all day but serve her every whim. I suppose it's because she makes most of the money in the house whereas he makes little to nothing at all…ever. The kids are barely worth mentioning. They're like perfected little copies of me. Everything they touch turns into gold whereas my palms produce manure every time. At least it's fine crap. Mom would not give a rat's ass about me dying. My dad can't because I'll be joining him soon. My life was wasted. That was the end. At least it should have been. Should have blinked out like one of those Christmas lights that you don't want to replace after thirty years of use. I was done, with no natural way of coming back. Until this bitch came and ruined the entire thing in one fell swoop. I never saw her walk in, but I will never forget that face or the trouble it had put me through.  
***  
Earlier That Day…  
***  
"That'll be $28.95, here's your check. Have a nice day ma'am," I recited a little more monotonously than I should have. My job was pretty simple. Serve people, clean up after people, and always do it with a smile. If I hadn't have been cut off and scraping pennies and nickels together for tuition, I would have burned the place down a long, long time ago. But at Joe's Eat and Go, the customers came before anything. Even if customer in particular weighed at least 370 lbs. and had the attitude of a high-school girl half her age and less than half her weight.

"Oh, and can I get an order of Double Fried Chili Fries with extra cheese and meat, one—no make that two—of your Sirloin Burgers, and a large Diet Dr. Pepper. Thanks, babycakes." The power plant of a woman decided to add insult to gluttony with a wink which looked more like a hippopotamus with Down's Syndrome having a stroke. I drug a smile up from the bottom of my being so I could turn around and not have to deal with this anymore. Brushing my hair back out of my eyes, I happened to pass my favorite person in this joint.

"Em, I love you man. But you have to stay in the mandated dress-code. One day, the health inspector might come in and decide to give us a B rating due to your fashion statements." A genuine grin spread across my face. Mr. Steve was a strong, old black man with wide shoulders and wrinkles earned from working hard most of his life. It certainly paid off. This was the first restaurant of a few around the Seattle area—Joe's was quite famous and the food wasn't too bad.

"I'll try to keep that in mind-even though I am your favorite employee and you don't give a rat's ass anyway." I chortled while picking up a few trays the new bus boy missed. That was one thing about me. I could do about almost ten things at the same time and get them done with high efficiency. Wonder if that's why everyone steps on me like an abandoned piece of gum on the sidewalk. As I breezed through the double doors into the kitchen, I see the one person who constantly tries to challenge that thought— Bella. Everyone wanted her. Everyone wanted to be her. The part of me that I thought of as a funky demon on my shoulder just wanted to drown her in all that dishwater she should have been washing dishes with, although the angel was heavily against it.

"Jasper, stop that!" She giggled in that high pitched whine that sounded like a European police siren. With her smoky-made eyes, lush chesnut locks, and a body exploiting the secrets of the female species, Bella was revered as a living goddess. Personally, I thought she was a highly overrated trollop. And that trollop was spread on the sink and all over him. And it wasn't like she didn't have anything else going for her. In her "sex-spot" work spot, no one was safe. But there he was.

"Bella, you do know I love you, don't you?" Every time he said that, a new part of me decided to break off and die. With just a few words, he'd turned my mellow day into the stuff of litter boxes. Jasper Hale has been my best friend since junior-high, when he spilled vanilla pudding on the crotch of my favorite jeans. Since then, we were inseparable. I care about him more than myself, more than breathing or feeding Tiny Cat. And he loved that bitch. As I tried to get out of the closed space as quickly as I could, he noticed me standing there.

"Emmett, didn't see you there!" He quickly dropped the Jezebel and snatched me up onto an air tight hug. He was a hugger, even though i was the igger one. The Wispy ends of his hair tickled my cheek as I tried to get out of his grip. "Let me go, Conan." I squeaked, running out of useable air. He placed me back on the ground, with one of his widest smiles plastered onto his face.

"I just missed you. What are your plans for tonight?" He asked. Hopefully he had something good to follow with that, because I had nothing. Whether it was playing Borderlands 2 or hitting up the nightlife, I always had time to be his best friend. Well, except when I was slaving over school notes. Pathology sucks. Bella had begun tapping her foot and both the demon and angel agreed that the bitch be put in her place.

"After my shift I'm about as free as air." I smirked, maybe a bit too flirtatiously. "Air is fifty cents." Bella retorted, the lasers in her eyes set on insta-kill. "Well, maybe it's about time you filled up." I blasted back, earning a few chuckles around the kitchen. Bella, instantly, had a look of scorn upon her face that would make Hitler soil his britches.

"I'm not doing anything, unless you wanna crash at my place again." Jasper shrugged, then ran his hand through his golden curls. Bella sat there, her signature pout almost etched into her features.

"But I thought we do that thing….tonight? You said-" "Hold it, love. I said we would do that when the time was right. I want to make sure I give myself to the person I am meant to spend my life with." Now, that was one of the qualities I loved about Jasper. He was pure in every single way-innocence incarnate-where I was pretty dark. Guess that's what drew me to him. Bella, however, was not very pleased with the sudden topic change.

"Dude, you're such an asshole. You might as well go, I have to work." "Really?" I mumbled under my breath while picking up the huge ass order I still hadn't brought out to the equally proportioned manatee waiting for it. My shift was almost over and I'm pretty sure Tiny Cat had ripped into another case of toilet paper as retaliation for being starved. Jasper stepped back astonished—as always—at her manic case. Sensing the argument waiting to happen, I stepped in the line of fire.

"Bella, my shift is almost over. I'll trade you for the close and meet you guys at Seven's." I gave her my best fake smile.

"You guys could use the alone time." The she-demon thought about it for a nano-second before hopping off the counter and chucking the dish towel at me.

"You owe me one, Emmett McCarty," She chimed, instantly making me flare with discord to her presence. Taking Jasper's hand, she flounces out the door, making sure she bounced along the way.

"Of course I do," I whisper, throwing the towel at the sink and picking up the food. It was gonna be a long night. At about ten o'clock the restaurant was pretty dead. By 10:15 I considered closing early.

"Fifteen more minutes, just fifteen lousy minutes," I chanted while wiping down all the table tops. Howard, the thirty-something year old pothead, was all I had left to help me out. He stood in the kitchen, smelling of Visine and cannabis. Nothing was cooking, and no one was coming in. The only tables still left were the corner booth, monopolized as always by a pair of grumpy old farts drinking coffee and grumbling about how things were better in the old days—you don't get a whiskey shooter like you used to get in the old days, we had proper scotch in the old days, when I was a little boy we used to inhale it for supper—and a tall blond woman at one of the high-tops, her back to the counter, toying with a salad and a slice of peach pie I had brought to her table forty-five minutes ago at the height of the rush. Contrary to all laws of gastronomy, her portions seemed to have grown larger rather than smaller as she pushed them around her plate with her fork. Getting a little more vexed than I ought to have been, I grabbed a pen and tightened my smile a bit. Knowing Edgar and Ralphie weren't going anywhere, I turned my attention to the girl tossing the salad.

"Can I get you anything else, ma'am? " I asked, gnawing on the cap of my pen a little in agitation.

"You're such a gentleman! That won't be necessary. I—we—won't be staying long." She turned and my mouth practically hit the ground. Light blonde curls framed her heart-shaped face, almond shaped eyes containing the greenest color I'd ever seen. She belonged in a high fashion magazine, not this diner. She pulled out a chair and sat down in a most seductive manner, the leather ensemble she wore tightening around her curves as she did so.

"Emmett McCarty, am I correct?" At that point I couldn't do anything but nod my head like a lumbering idiot. Something felt odd about this girl. She seemed too pretty, too sweet. As she took off her jacket, I couldn't help but notice a brand like tattoo on her left forearm, a harsh red triple loop against the creamy white skin. It looked as if someone added a center loop to an infinity symbol, with a bold line across the center.

"Well, are you the fucking kid or not?" she snapped me, bringing me back to the real world.

"Yes," I replied in a meek sound unlike myself. The air itself started to around us, closing in on me uncomfortably.

"Well then, introductions are to be made. I'm Rosalie, hailing from Savannah, Georgia. Also the Second Sister of Fate, an' I'm gonna make sure you awaken all proper and such."

"Awaken? Excuse me lady, I think you have the wrong guy," I scoffed, trying to make way past her and back into the kitchen when she stood up again. This time it felt as if she were ten feet taller than me.

"You don't understand boy, we are on a tight schedule and even though you aren't what we'd expected I figure you'll be good enough anyway. Do me a favor and try not to kill too many people while we do this, 'kay sweet thang?" I opened my mouth to protest when she latched on to mine with viper like reflexes. Nothing but dread filled me as I fell deeper and deeper into the darkness of her lips.

Every religion has a telling of it somewhere. A version if you may, tiny little facets of the truth. The Christians have Eve, the Greeks Persephone and Pandora. In the end it all starts with a woman. She is nameless but has every name. The Gods created her, a beautiful and docile creature to be the bride of all of them and give birth to a world of peace and unending dedication. But the One Who Is Scorned saw her and defied all odds to have her as his own. He stripped his sash of gold and cast his crown at the feet of the gods, hoping this would prove his devotion to her. But, they all laughed at his follies and cast him from the Garden, everlasting. This turned his heart bitter and in his newly forged hate he blessed the maiden with the only blessing he'd ever give. He gave her the true Dominion over everything and everyone. Her eyes had been opened and she saw the debauchery of the so called Gods. And so she wept and found that life grew from her tears. And with that, she promised to create a race free of the binds of greed that was laced into the motives of the previous deities.

My body surged at the new information being shoved into me. The truth of everything began to unfold as i delved deeper into the visions I was receiving. I lived thousands of lives, men, women, animals, trees. Birth, death. The feel of the sun on my leaves as my apples ripened in my branches. The wet hot terror of the night, a darting scurrying prey fleeing snapping jaws. A sunbeam rippling through a pond, illuBellating flashes of silver sides as brothers and sisters scatter before an egret. The fear as my father beats me for not selling enough candles on the street, and threatening to sell other things if I didn't make him enough money. Pride coursing through me as I am hunting with my tribe through nameless dark jungles for things that threatened to hunt us first, just for the glory of conquest. Delight. Terror. Love. Sorrow. Regret, anger, amusement, joy, hungerlustaffectionresentmentsatisfactionlaughtertearsragefearpain PAIN! My eyes snapped open, unseeing. The piercing sound of pain intruded my senses. It took a while to realize it was me.

***

I recovered not soon after, my forehead slick with sweat. That "Rosalie" person was bent over me, waiting for me to wake up.

"Rise and shine, sweetie. You got some things to do now that the process has started." I got up and dusted myself off.

"What process?" I asked, already knowing deep down the next words she was about to say. As the next sentences cascaded from her mouth, I felt myself break. "Honestly, you've got the wrong guy." I said, backing to the door. Edgar and Ralphie had gotten over their laughing fit from watching me pass out and had moved on to whatever else it is two grumpy war vets do at this hour. Rosalie sauntered toward me, her hips swaying like white oleander in a breeze.

"I did not just sit here, order me some bag lettuce from Mexico on a plate and a pie with peaches that probably ain't even been dropped on Georgia soil, for you to sit here and tell me you ain't who you are 'cause I happen to know a lot more than you ever would, boy. Now, what you're gonna do is be nice and calm and come with me. We got things to do." She then looked down and grimaced in distaste.

"Gosh darnit, these are Louboutins."

"I don't want this. I don't want any of it!" I screamed out to her. Before she had an opportunity to wrangle me up in my insanity, I bolted out the door. I just kept running, letting everything else fade away.

"Of all the creatures that were or will ever be, you are the closest to Her. Your purpose is greater than anything, even the people you love the most. And you will lose that person. Nothing can change that. The threads have decided." I felt myself move faster than I ever did, fighting against the weight of time. I prayed it wasn't too late as the electric sign for Seven's came into my sight.


	2. Go Down Swinging

I knew better than to be blindly running in the middle of the night. Anything could have happened—mugging, rape, random occurrence of a dragon swooping down and rolling a one on my reflex save. But none of that mattered. The feeling of pure dread just wouldn't go away. At least that was the case before I tripped on my shoelaces and bumped into the nearest stranger. As I stuttered to come up with a quick apology, it finally hit me. The tall blondie with green eyes and the cheesiest grin was none other than Jasper. "Hey man," he welcomed me, encasing me in that same tight hug I always get,

"I sent a text your way not too long ago, what's up?" Way to remind me of all the spectacularly grand shit my life had been spewing out at me tonight.

"Nothing but hanging with you, dumbass." I covered up with a smile. He smiled back, but when I looked up to his eyes, it looked as if he had been crying. If that wasn't a warning sign, I don't know what would be.

"You okay dude?" I asked, giving him the "tell me now or I'll whoop your ass to the moon" look.

"It's good man, Bella just…" He trailed off in thought for a minute before shaking his head and trailing into the bar. Sighing, I followed after him. The place was about as dry the "Do Not Eat" packet in a box of crackerjacks. Angela was cleaning her glasses as usual. Jasper sulked off to the men's room and I took a seat at the bar. On a better day, the place would be packed to the corners, mostly horny drunks trying to get at her—the girl's chest could have burnt at least two of the topless towers of Ilium, or launched at least thirty ships. The fact that the bar was empty meant one good thing: druggage.

"Hey Angela, what's on the menu tonight?" I asked, balling my collected tips in my right hand. I could go hungry for a half a day if it meant calming down my friend—and myself. '

"You're such a dweeb, McCarty." She replied, sweeping her long dreads from her face.

"You're in luck. My dealer's dealer got a good deal on some Canadian Red." I looked at her, and I couldn't help but ask.

"What the hell is in Canadian anyway?" I asked jeeringly, earning the scowl only Angela could give.

"Like I have a clue, I just sell, dude. Fifty for an ounce." It was just my luck I had made twenty-five bucks tonight and I had thirty from before that. I handed her the cash and she slid the baggie to me in a highball glass, just as Jasper came out of the restroom. His long face shortened slightly as he caught sight of the overflowing glass in front of me. He still wasn't his usual cheery self, but at least he no longer looked like Tiny Cat after her weekly bath.

"Nice! Need me to chip in?"

" No, I got it," I replied, "Joe's has been good to me this week."

"I'll get the next one, then," he said, coming up next to me and taking a seat at the bar.

"And don't even try to argue, you've picked up the last three for me when I had that ticket." I spread my hands wide.

"Hey, it was my pleasure. Besides, you bought the bong I'm gonna smoke most of it with." He gave me a flash of that stunning grin before returning his attention to the glass. He pulled a pack of Zig Zags out of his jacket pocket and flicked it at me. I made an attempt at catching it out of the air, but it bounced off my shoulder and landed on that little kick block thing they always install under bars for reasons I've never been able to fathom. I've always ended up stubbing my toes on the damn things while drunk. I ducked under the bar and fished out the papers, then efficiently ground up a few buds in the little yin/yang grinder I picked up for three bucks at a flea market downtown. Nice stuff. Sticky, which had a nice feel to it. Rolled up neat as anything, too, so a few moments of concentration sufficed to produce a couple of tidy little joints with no unwieldy lumps or bits of stick poking through the paper. I flicked one back at Jasper—it went wide, but he barely caught it between two fingers—and we headed out back. He'd picked up a couple of beers from Angela while I was rolling, so I duked her three bucks by way of a tip. We service industry folks have to look out for each other. No one else will.

 

A few passes of the joint and I felt as high as I've ever been. Jasper was rambling off about some Star Trek episode where Capitan Kirk died, again. We decided to smoke in the alley, like we used to. Our spot was in the moonlight, which made our skin glow with a soft radiance. I tilted my head back and allowed myself a moment to drink in Jasper's form. His skin had a fair pallor, stretched across long, graceful limbs. The pale yellow hair washed him out, complimented by eyes the color of jeweled emeralds. His cheekbones were high and full, but not full enough—he worked at the Stop 'N Shop and had to choose between food and electricity. For one more second, I let myself wonder how soft his cheek would be—until I caught myself.

"So, where is Bella?" I asked, needing to change the subject to something more distracting. He answered me with a howling laugh, almost music to my ears.

"I'll tell you something," he choked out, "the shit I've put up with to be with her really wasn't worth it." He shifted and gave me a look that I couldn't place. "She never was." He then took another toke, leaving a somber silence between us.

"Well, it took you long enough to catch on," I said, finally breaking the mood. He nodded, then turned himself toward me.

"I have a tendency to be pretty oblivious. Especially when what I want is right in front of me." Before I could question what was going on, his lips were on mine. And time stood still for us. All of my blood rushed to my head and I felt the ground moving, but I was stationary. When he pulled back a blush stung on my cheeks as if it was tattooed there. I stared at him blankly for a split second as he smiled, all the way up to his eyes.

"No..." The word slipped from my lips as a whisper first, before the tears came. His brows furrowed in concern and a little puzzlement, a look of knowing he had done something wrong but not knowing what it was.

"No!" I yelled out, standing up.

"I don't want to be the consolation prize! I don't want to be the rebound guy, Jasper. How could you do this to me?" He shot to his feet, coming toward me to calm me down. "Emmett, I know this hurts you, but I know you are the one for me. I think about you all the time and I can always count on you. Even for the hard stuff—like this." He wrapped his arms around me, this time in a lover's embrace. I yearned to give in, to hold him and not think about it any longer. But my pride won out against me as I pushed him away.

"Why do this now, Jasper? I've loved you since we met, since I learned about you and who you are as a person. I've watched you from the sidelines and silently prayed that one day I'd be with you, that I'd be happy—even though it seemed so unlikely. But not like this, Jasper. Not like I'm the final pick for the team." I turned on the heels of my sneakers and started walking away.

"I'll wait for you Emmett," he called out to me. "I'll wait for you, as long as it—" And that's when the sound of gunshots changed everything forever.

 

Do you know that feeling you get when you're sitting in class and your leg falls asleep? That blank heavy numbness before the pins and needles start to tingle? That feeling was a blanket wrapped around my body. It was skin tight, with no room to move. His blood stained all of my uniform. I held him while he bled out, using everything I'd learned in my useless med school trying to save him. The books don't tell you what to do if you fail. So I did the only thing I could—I shut down.

Angela ran out to the alley to see me curled up next to the body. She hid the weed, then called the paramedics. By the time they got there his eyes were a slate green, dull, glazed and void of any of the happiness I once saw in them. I was questioned, whereupon I told them my back was turned. The cops chalked it up to a mugging attempt, although his ID and wallet were still in the pockets of his jeans. No one offered their condolences. The only family he had left was a few cousins in Ohio. No one would come to get the body soon. And all I could do was stare at it. Blankly. The cold, lifeless thing that was once my best friend lay on the table in the morgue. Never would I see that dazzling smile that I was accustomed to every day. Never would I be hugged by his strong arms, slightly freckled from his stint as a swimmer. And his eyes wouldn't light up when he saw me anymore—they'd just stare back. Blankly.

"I need to go home." My voice was flat and raspy from screaming at him—begging for him to hold on, that everything I said didn't matter and that I needed him, loved him. And he never heard it. It was too late, too soon. A female police officer escorted me to my apartment, which remained the same way I had left it. The title screen to Kingdom Hearts 2 flashed on the television. Tiny Cat growled at me for her meal. I grabbed a handful of kibble and let it fall sloppily into her dish. My notes lay scattered on the bed, my essay still not completed. Next to them was my bag, filled with tools we used sometimes in class—one being a very sharp scalpel. I was just tired, exhausted to the point that I'd make Atlas look like a wimpy teenager. Without thinking, I wrote on the kitchen pad "Sorry. I have to go too," brandished the scalpel I'd obtained, and ran it up the length of my left arm. The sting was like a note plucked on a harp string, resonating to the depths of my core. I did the same to my right arm, slowly—for I was shaking from the nerves that had shut down with the incision. The blood ran in rivulets down the length of my arm, blending seamlessly with his bloodstains on my shirt. I was glad for us to be together in some way, even if it was a twisted thought. I sat on my couch, still dingy from the day I purchased it from Mr. Li, the landlord. Boy, would he be pissed. As I felt myself slip into the dark unknown, I couldn't help but wonder why a beautiful blonde was sitting on the coffee table across the way.


End file.
